A/N - Thank you, Liam Hanly, & Bob, for becoming God of Velmoryn's Patrons!
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I observed the tribe through the Window, my thoughts still circling around the news I had just learned.
Velmoryns were artificially created?!
The idea kept gnawing at me. What did that even mean for myself? Was my own consciousness the result of some artificial process? How could I, a being who shouldn't have existed in the first place, become the god of a race born from crossbreeding and manipulation? It twisted the entire foundation beneath my feet.
And yet… not in the negative way.
Did this mean that new species could emerge from crossbreeding, evolving independently, developing unique traits that might never have existed otherwise? Traits like Crimson Rite.
For a moment, I entertained the idea that Crimson Rite wasn't unique to Velmoryns, that perhaps it was inherited from the demon bloodline they were partially born from. But then I remembered what Guidance had shown me. That skill was uniquely tied to Velmoryns. Only they could wield it.
It wasn't pride or bloodline that bothered me. I had been human in my past life; whether I was an elven subrace, or a new race crafted from mixing elves and demons, made no difference to me personally. My identity was shaped by my choices, not by whatever bizarre ancestry my soul, or whatever I was, now inhabited.
What did matter, however, was what this revelation unlocked.
If races could be created this way, then eventually, so could I. I could experiment and create races of my own. I could shape a beast with the spider mutants' thick chitin, the Tharuun's speed and flexibility, the Varniketh's brutal pack instincts. I wouldn't use that exact mix, of course. But the thought itself was intriguing. A god creating entirely new species - not merely blessing existing ones, but building them from scratch.
However, at the moment, I had different priorities.
The path of creativity would eventually come, but for now, my plate was already full with more immediate concerns. I needed to strengthen my tribe. Quickly.
Down below, Tekla stood before the gathering of Velmoryns on the outskirts of the settlement. Her voice rang with the bright confidence and enthusiasm as she addressed my believers.
"Those who pass the trial and prove their worth shall be rewarded by High Father," she declared, her fingers playing with each other playfully. "Our Lord wishes to choose His most devoted swords, and grants you this chance to earn His blessing!"
Her eyes sparkled with fervor as she addressed the crowd, many of whom had never seen her so alive, so radiant. She was quickly becoming something more than just my priestess. In their eyes, she was already the face of my will. I didn't know if God influencing their believers in such a direct way was a norm in this world, but I was desperate to speed things up. So, once again, I had sent the divine commandment to Tekla.
The vision I had shown her was simple. Velmoryn Trials - a new tradition that would take place once a year. Silver-ranked Velmoryns would fight to prove themselves, and those who rose to the top would be rewarded directly by me. Perhaps not only the champion but several others would also receive the blessing.
The trials served two purposes. They would fan the flame of ambition and loyalty within the tribe, driving them forward with hunger to grow strong under my name. And at the same time, it gave me a controlled way to strengthen my most valuable warriors.
I had placed the restriction on rank carefully. Gold-ranked Velmoryns needed to be barred from participating as they'd overpower the others too easily. But more importantly, the cost to bless a Gold Rank was absurd at my current strength. If my assumptions were correct, the Divinity cost scaled exponentially, roughly fifty times per rank. That meant blessing a Gold Rank would cost me around 1,250 Divinity Points. An impossible price for now.
But blessing several Silver Ranks and rising them to Gold was well within reach, especially after Avenor had secured me a fresh surge of 100 Divinity Points.
Originally, I hadn't planned on blessing any additional Silver Ranks for a while. But after witnessing Mirion's failed attempt to slay the massive green spider during the hunt, I saw the flaw in my initial thinking. Sending one or even two Golds and a handful of Silvers to fight those winter creatures, monsters I still knew too little about, was reckless. Even with my protection, the death of my best warriors was not something I could afford to risk lightly. These were my elites. My future weapons.
I needed them stronger. And fast.
It hadn't even been a year since I had become a god, and already, I had crossed paths with at least two gods. Perhaps even three, if that colossal spider belonged to a different deity than the Goddess or the one whose Inquisitor Avenor had just killed. The pace of my growth, which once felt steady and satisfying, now seemed sluggish. The divine world was much more crowded and much more dangerous than I initially believed.
This winter, while the tribes are locked inside their settlements, I'll target one of them. Before the winter ends, I'll have at least one more tribe under control.
With this, I had yet another goal for this winter. But before I reached beyond my borders, I needed to continue solidifying what I already controlled. My tiny tribe, though growing stronger, was still fragile. And I already had an idea of what I was supposed to do next.
I zoomed the Window out, letting my vision expand until the entire settlement fit comfortably into view. Then I shifted my focus, trying to feel Orrvyn, my Crimson Guardian. I reached toward the vivid thread that connected us, letting my senses extend downward, into the soil, into the roots.
The change was dramatic.
When Orrvyn had first awakened, its roots had barely spread beyond the core of the settlement. But since then, as its consciousness expanded, the crimson roots had pushed farther, steadily stretching their reach. Now they extended well beyond the borders of the tribe. The vast network sprawled beneath the forest floor like an underground sea of blood-red tendrils, weaving in and out of the land's natural veins.
And that sprawling web gave me an idea.
I would use Orrvyn's reach as a defensive wall. It would be like a natural border, but more importantly, the Crimson Guardian would act as a vast sensory network, a radar of sorts. Nothing would cross these borders unnoticed.
But before giving the command, I wanted to test one more theory. If my assumption was correct, any change Orrvyn manifested in the physical world should also echo within my divine realm. My plane and Crimson Guardian were now deeply intertwined, and if I was to fully understand how to shape both, I needed to observe every interaction.
My attention turned toward Orrvyn's projection within my realm. I wanted to check its state now and compare it later.
"Form the wall," I ordered.
In the physical world, the roots began their work instantly. Thick cords of crimson burst from the ground like coiled serpents, twisting upward, weaving into a dense living wall. They wound around one another tightly, layer after layer, rising steadily into the air, until the settlement was now encased within towering walls of gnarled, living thorns. But they did not extend to the absolute limits of Orrvyn's reach. I had intentionally kept the wall inside its maximum range. This was not a defensive line to hold enemies back at a distance - it was a trap.
If enemies dared attack, the Crimson Guardian would allow them to get close, luring them just close to the wall, where my warriors would charge forward from within while Orrvyn's roots would burst from beneath, slicing, crushing, and dragging them around like prey swallowed by the forest itself.
The coordination would be seamless. The tree never slept. It always recognized those who carried my mark. My tribe could pass freely through the living wall without restriction, while any outsider would find themselves tangled in an inescapable net.
And the best was that the wall could be moved, reshaped, or even withdrawn entirely at my will. No expensive materials, no slow manual labor. Just a single thought.
I turned my attention back to my divine realm. Just as I had suspected, the changes were reflected here as well. The roots in my domain thickened, rising from beneath the clouds and forming a spiraling crimson barrier that wrapped around Orrvyn.
I watched in silence, analyzing the implications.
What if my entire divine realm directly reflects the extent of my control over the physical world?
It would explain the dense mist that still blanketed everything around me. The absence of clear features. The lack of a stable form. Everything was hidden under a veil, but my most devoted believers… and Orrvyn. My realm was likely not fully shaped yet because my rule over Velmoryns was still fractured. My tribe was still small, and the other five were not following me. My grasp over the forest was also limited.
If my theory is correct, once I unite all Velmoryn tribes, once my dominion extends across the entire forest, the mist will begin to lift. Perhaps not entirely, but enough to reveal the lands I fully claim. The territory where my power reigns absolute.
The idea still felt distant, vague. Like staring at a shape through heavy fog.
"Lord," Tekla's soft voice suddenly broke into my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. "I beg for mercy to plead you this… but may Vivien be blessed?"
Her words were quiet, her tone reverent, almost guilty for daring to speak them aloud. But beneath the hesitance, I could sense something else. Tekla had changed. It was subtle at first - small shifts in how she spoke to me, slight pauses where before there had been only rigid submission. But as time passed, and I fed her more visions, more glimpses into my desires for the tribe, she had grown bolder. She had begun to offer her own thoughts. Her own suggestions. Always with deference, always seeking permission, but no longer afraid to draw my attention where she thought it needed to go.
I willed the Window to shift focus, zooming toward the arena where the duels were still taking place. Vivien sat off to the side now, her head lowered, tears slipping down her cheeks in streams.
"That was foolish and reckless." Lily's voice was calm, almost emotionless, though her words carried the strong tone of disapproval as she handed Vivien a small vial of crimson potion. "Drink this."
"Thank you," Vivien whispered, downing the mixture in one gulp. The faint green glow of restorative magic washed over her body, mending the fresh scrapes and fading the bruises already blooming across her pale gray skin.
"And you," Lily turned sharply toward Lucas, her calm demeanor intact even as her words cut. "Do you realize she's pregnant? What would you have done if you'd struck her too hard? That child carries not only the blood of High Father's blessed champion, but has consumed the Blessed Essence."
The tribe had begun calling my special essences Blessed Essence… a fitting name, I supposed. Formed from the harvested life force of fallen Velmoryns and my own divine power, they were far more potent than anything they had ever encountered before.
"I knew better." Lucas remained unmoved. His voice was even and detached as he answered.
The exchanges between Velmoryns, especially those influenced by dark magic, always felt strange. Their words were often stripped of warmth, their voices hollow, like distant echoes of what emotion should have been. But not all of them were the same - Vivien was the opposite, plant magic multiplying her sensitivity on top of pregnancy.
"He controlled his strength. I know it." Vivien spoke softly now, cutting off Lily's rebuke before it could continue. "Besides… these duels are held in our Lord's name. If he had gone easy on me, if he had given me victory out of pity, it would have been an insult to High Father. Thank you, Lucas. If anything, I owe my life to you… and to Roy…"
Her voice faltered. She lowered her head again, tears returning as she whispered her husband's name.
Even before Tekla made her plea, I had been watching Vivien closely. Her magic was rare. Plant magic was one of the rarest branches among the tribe, and she was easily the most talented practitioner. But since Roy's death, her devotion had taken a hit. And even if I could understand why, understanding did not mean I was willing to overlook it.
Is it worth granting a blessing to one whose faith falters?
As if sensing my hesitation, Tekla straightened and addressed Vivien directly, her gaze burning with brutal honesty.
"Vivien." She called. "Your… doubts… and reckless actions insult your husband's sacrifice. Raise your head and be proud of how he fell. You shall not tarnish the death of His blessed child! Pray to High Father and beg for forgiveness."
Is she starting to read my mind?
For a brief moment, amusement crept in. Of course, Tekla wasn't reading my mind, but I could read hers as clearly as if she had spoken aloud.
Despite her growing boldness, despite the confidence she now displayed when speaking my will before the tribe, her devotion had only grown more profound. In fact, the last time I had examined her status window, it was nearing the absolute threshold - close to a perfect 100 out of 100 that I hadn't even realized was possible for a being still possessing independent thought and will.
Tekla was genuinely angry. Furious that Vivien's faith had wavered. Not out of personal disappointment, but because, to her, my protection was the single thread holding the Velmoryns together. She believed it absolutely. Without me, they would be lost. Every ounce of safety they clung to, every small hope for the future, all stemmed from my mercy. In her mind, their devotion was not simply warranted - it was a sacred obligation.
And as I analyzed her conviction, a thought settled in my mind.
Fear alone will not be enough.
Fear could command obedience. It could ensure loyalty. But it could never grow into the kind of unshakable, absolute faith that endured across generations. It would never spark the desire to sacrifice life for my sake. The reason Tekla was scolding Vivien was because of her love and trust in me, not fear. And if I wished to become something more than a god worshipped under trembling gazes, something truly eternal in their hearts, then I needed balance. I needed love. And the way to earn that was simple:
Always return what you receive.
Vivien had lost too much. Her husband had given his life, pledging his soul to me. And even if I had granted Roy what he asked, deep down, I knew that it was not an equal exchange.
I watched her carefully. The decision formed swiftly, as natural as breathing. This was not merely a reward. This was an offering returned. A divine bargain honored. Even if I could not restore Roy's soul right now, I knew that someday I could.
So I reached across the connection between us, letting my presence brush gently against her soul. And then I let the words carry through her trembling mind:
"Child, do not falter, for you shall reunite with your fated one in my kingdom."
The moment my voice whispered into her mind, the dam broke. Her quiet sobs erupted into gasping cries. And then something unexpected happened.
The connection did not fade after my message reached her - it intensified.
I felt emotions surge toward me like warm currents swirling around my consciousness. Not disturbing, more like faint passing waves. Euphoria. Gratitude. Hope. Relief. And beneath them all… something far more precious - zeal.
And then, another star began to form. A new crimson glow flared into existence in my divine realm, pulsing, brightening. But even as I watched its light growing stronger, I sensed something different about this one.
Beneath Vivien's connection, there was something else. A second thread. Subtle. Thin. But pure. The most pristine connection I had ever felt. It was not thought, not will, not prayer - only the faintest glimmer of existence. A fragile flicker of emotion.
Roy?!
Before I could fully grasp what was happening, the familiar and most precious color appeared.
A golden notification window flashed before my eyes.
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